Noel sighed as she stood before the mirror: there were dark circles beneath her green eyes. She'd spent another night tossing and turning, jumping at every little sound and had still been awake this time when her alarm clock started blaring at seven thirty. She'd showered (her unnaturally pink hair still clung wetly to the sides of her face) and trudged to the cafeteria to down two paper cups full of sugary black coffee and still her mind felt sluggish.

She might have skipped class if this was an isolated incident, but her insomnia had been getting progressively worse over the past few months. She'd already missed enough classes that it had started effecting her grades, and she knew she couldn't afford to lose her scholarships. She opened a small drawer under the counter to dig out some makeup, but paused. A small white bottle with the name "Somnus" and a blue crescent moon logo on the label lay amongst the jumbled mess of scarves, hair ties and half-empty lotion bottles. A friend had given her the sleeping pills a few weeks ago after she'd nearly collapsed backstage during a rehearsal. She'd put off using them, but it seemed like she wouldn't have a choice at this point. After grabbing her concealer she shut the drawer and began liberally applying it around her eyes to cover the dark circles.

- - - - - - - - - -

Half an hour later she entered the auditorium for her classic film class and slumped down into a seat in the center of the back row. She sipped at yet another cup of coffee as the rest of the class slowly filtered in and the lights eventually went out. She stifled a laugh, nearly choking on her coffee, when the film started and the opening scene of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari rolled across screen. "Lucky fucking Somnambulist..." she murmured, sinking deeper into her seat.

Dripping… the state of the room in which Icelus sits practically exudes such an action. A dank black chamber near the heart of the floating glacier in which the creature made his home, it is certainly understandable that the place would be a little damp. The sheer state of it, however, the arrangement of the scant décor and the claustrophobia of the inner sanctum suggest a place far deeper, some long-forgotten alcove in the depths of an ancient dungeon. The walls are carved granite, the surface littered with forgotten hieroglyphs of bygone ages, ranging in style and origin in a whirlwind tour of ancient cultures. Aside from the walls, the decoration of the room was spartan at best. Moss grew in the corners of the forgotten room and a pair of trunks burst up through the cracked flagstones near the center of the room. One was a stump, the edges of its top curling up around a massive glass oculus planted in its top with age. The other was a gnarled willow fashioned into a dark throne, its seated occupant watching the faint glow of the oculus with an unwavering gaze.

On the oculus, the distorted title card of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari was visible, Icelus tilting his head with some vague sense of interest, leaning back lazily in his throne, one leg pulled up onto his knee and his chin resting on his curled, clawed fist.

“Hey! I looooove this movie!”

The shriek might have made a lesser being jump. Icelus’ gaze merely narrowed on the curved screen before him, a pair of violet pinpricks so focused in their irritation that the bat-girl that had entered ducked behind his throne with a whimper.

“Marlowe. Darling.” He hissed, voice showing the obvious strain of rage retention, “What did we say about knocking?”

“S-sorry, Master,” she flashed an apologetic smile, her teeth glinting in the light like razors.

“I was watching her…” he gestured with a meaty claw, the view of the oculus swinging to bring Noel’s curled form into view.

“Ooooh, she’s a cutie!” the girl offered, peaking out from behind Icelus’ seat.

“Noel Roux. Go see if we’ve anything of hers on hand. I doubt we kept any of it, probably standard stuff, but have a looksee anyway, it couldn’t hurt,” he ordered as he stood, placing a talon on the orb idly.

“Yes, sir!” Marlowe gave a sober salute with one of her wings, the long, slender fingers stretching the membrane taut between them.

------------------------------------

To say that Icelus appeared in the theater would be inaccurate. He coalesced. A twisting concentration of shadow in a seat a few rows back from Noel seemed to take on a solidity of its own, forming the lithe shape of his human guise, hands folded patiently in his lap as his eyes moved slowly from the screen to his target and then slowly back.

Ten minutes into the film and Noel had slumped even further into her chair. Her long, slender legs were crossed at the knees and hooked over the seat directly in front of her, her body low enough that just the top of her bright pink hair was visible over the back of her seat. Her foot bobbed up and down to a steady, unheard beat as her bright green eyes struggled to focus on the grainy, shaking images.

She was fidgety. Though the copious amount of caffeine she'd ingested that morning kept her awake and relatively alert, she always had trouble concentrating. Rather than taking notes, her right hand seemed quite content to fill her notebook with rambling, stream of conscious sketches. The blue-lined page gradually filled with swirling black patterns, a flock off odd little birds, some two headed snakes and a line of dancing ballerinas.

She was zoning out before she knew it. In her fuzzy state it was difficult to concentrate on the film and as the conclusion approached she found her eyes idly wandering around the sparcly-filled auditorium instead. Most of the regulars were here. The combative brunette from her discussion section was missing - she was rather vocal about her dislike of silent films though, and two of the TAs were nowhere to be found. Eventually she spotted a presence behind her out of the corner of her eye. Occationally students not enrolled in the course would pop in to catch a free movie so an unfamiliar face wasn't particularly odd, but the fact that this one was male was. Arching an eyebrow she turned her head slightly to get a better look. He was probably a professor or something, judging from his attire. Nothing else seemed particularly odd about him in the dim light, so a heartbeat later she was looking forward again, trying to concentrate on the screen.

Icelus held stock still, doing his best not to meet her gaze, not to make eye contact and simply stare unassumingly forward into the screen. As soon as he felt the weight of her eyes leave her, he un-tensed, a wry smile coming over his features as he took a few moments to enjoy the events playing out on-screen, folding his hands in his lap and resting his head back against the comfortable, cushioned seat.

The next thing the girl would hear would likely be a low, dull, and yet still rather loud “fwump.” It could have been the sound of a sledgehammer being driven into a large pile of burlap sacks. It could have also been the sound of air rushing in to fill the recently vacated man-shaped space in the chair a few rows behind her, as Icelus was nowhere to be seen.

----------------------------------

“That… that’s it?” Marlowe asked as he re-entered the viewing room, “A little anti-climactic, don’t you think?” she said, looking disappointed.

“Patience is a virtue…” Icelus trailed off, dragging his claw affectionately over the glass surface of the screen, “I don’t want to frighten her yet, just make her feel uneasy, make enough of a fuss to upset the balance, unsettle her a little…”

“You know, sometimes this subtlety you go for, it goes right past people. You over think this stuff way, way too much,” Marlowe lounged across his throne ruffling her wings.

Icelus took a look back and snapped his fingers. A startled scream could be heard echoing from some far-off location within the palace, “There. Fratboy. Your dome. Go rip him apart or something, you’re annoying me.”

She licked her teeth and hugged him before scampering off. His claw lingered on the face of the oculus, sinking in ever-so-slightly and causing curling wisps of darkness to emerge on the screen from the point at which his claw entered.

----------------------------------

Back in the theater, the projector skipped slightly. The film began to wind down and as Noel watched, every once in a while there would be a small jump in the film, sometimes it was a dark lanky figure appearing in the background for only a frame and other times it was a quick jump and an image of a featureless face.

The petite student nearly jumped out of her skin when the sudden thud assaulted her ears. She looked around, green eyes searching the empty rows for the source of the noise. There was nothing though. None of the other students were near enough to have caused it, and the man who'd been sitting behind her seemed to have slipped out since she'd spotted him. She settled back down into her seat, feeling distinctly uneasy. It could have came from out in the hallway, or the floor directly above or below them, but some part of her doubted it.

Rubbing her temples, Noel fixed her eyes back on the screen. She groaned quietly a moment later when she was sure she'd imagined a strange jitter of the picture and a figure she'd never seen before flash briefly in the background. She was slightly relieved when it happened again moments later and several other students shifted in their seats and began looking around. At least she wasn't losing her mind, at least not yet. She could her a slight commotion in the projection booth just behind her. Craning her neck she could see the two missing TAs bickering as one, with her hair suspiciously disheveled, fiddled with the machinery and the other busily rebuttoned her shirt. Noel grinned to herself, but the smile never quite reached her eyes. When she turned around again she saw another glimpse of some strange figure as the smirk faded. She'd watched the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari enough times to know whatever it was wasn't suppose to be there, and she'd never seen damaged film that looked anything like this before.

Her train of thought was derailed when the house lights suddenly flared on. The students all groaned and Noel winced, rubbing her eyes as the sudden rush of light stung them. When the stars faded from her vision one of the TAs had made her way to the front of the room and was apologizing, making some excuse about technology problems. Noel grabbed up her backpack and left with the assurances that they'd finish the film during the next class.

She blinked slowly as she left the building and stepped into the bright sunlight. It was a beautiful day out, but Noel wasn't really in a position to enjoy it. The bright light stung her eyes and she walked hurriedly towards the visual arts building across campus and her life drawing class, keeping her head down so her shaggy hair partially shaded her eyes. Still, she couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder as she left the auditorium building behind her, plagued by the uncanny sensation that she was being watched.

Icelus watched the commotion as they were dismissed, enjoying every moment of the spectacle. That mild, controlled chaos was just enough to unsettle his quarry but not enough to set her on edge precisely yet. That, of course, was his job. He cracked his knuckles, dragging his talons in a screech across the surface of the oculus, the sound filling the minute chamber as his eyes never left the shape of Noel on the screen.

“Enjoy your thoughts now, little one…” he chuckled softly to himself, eyes gleaming with the reflection of the shapes in the oculus, “They’ll be all mine at dusk. All mine…” a self-indulgent smirk crossing his blank features.

-----------------------

As Noel leaves the classroom, crossing the campus, the unshakable feeling of being watched is only one side effect of Icelus’ attention.

With each step there seems to be a growing nuisance at the back of her ear, feeling like a feather dragged across the soft flesh in a tease. It continues, bouncing with each step, sliding up and down, up and down, maddeningly insistent in its touch.

Soon, the tickle is joined by a whisper, cresting and falling from murmurs to mumbles, none of the words really discernable. For minutes on end the whisper circles her ear, a breathy rasp.

“onceistarticannotstopmyselfonceistarticannotstopmyselfonceistarticannotstopmyself…”

It continues until she reaches the dorms, ceasing immediately as she passes over the threshold.

Noel struggled through the rest of her day increasingly on edge as each minute ticked by. The soft, teasing touch at the back of her ear and the incessant whispering constantly split her concentration. She was just imagining it, of course. Lack of sleep. She obviously didn't really see anything strange in the film earlier either. Hell, she'd probably imagined that strange sound and the man who'd sat behind her too, she told herself, though none of it felt true.

She tried to ignore the sound as she sat through her drawing class, tried to properly concentrate on the model and her drawing pad. Her lines were jittery or skewed, and in the end the figure on her paper looked nothing like the one sitting in front of her. With a growl of frustration she slashed a black charcoal X through the image and sat in irritation while her instructor spent several minutes praising her expressiveness and babbling on about some deep spiritual comment that Noel had entertained no intention whatsoever of making when she'd defaced her drawing.

The victory she felt when the bell rang and she escaped her teacher's praise faded quickly. As she exited out a side door she found herself on a pathway, abandoned aside from her quiet footsteps. Rather than relief, the solitude put her even more on edge. In the near silence she began to make out words in the raspy, whispered sounds. Frightened, she shook her head as if she could somehow displace the tormenting sound and touch and ran the entire way to her next class.

- - - - - - - - - -

When the bell rang and she was released from her last class Noel felt as if she was going mad. Her eyes darted all around as she made her way back to her dormitory and she skirted her friends by a wide margin. Still the sound followed her, the invisible touch teasing her soft skin.

Finally, when her tennis shoe clad feet crossed the threshold into the dorm lobby the sound stopped. Noel gave out a short, shocked cry at the sudden silence and the young woman sitting behind the security desk eyed her suspiciously over the fashion magazine she was reading. Retrieving her student ID from her backpack with a shaking hand she flashed it at the girl before taking off down the hallway and running up the stairwell two steps at a time, until she reached the top floor, her breathing slightly ragged. She dug for her keys as she walked quickly down the hall, pulling them out just as she reached the door marked 568. Her hands shook so badly that she missed several times before managing to insert the key into the lock.

She relocked the door behind her and let her backpack slip carelessly from her shoulders as she made a b-line to the tiny private bathroom and the bottle of sleeping pills inside.

A smile finds Icelus’ blank features at Noel’s distress, giving himself a sober mental pat-on-the-back for his actions. Watching the girl scurry from class to class, flustered and distracted by the constant whispering, that little irksome tickle, growing more and more disquieted at her torment. Removing his hands from the oculus, he leaves the room, allowing Noel to deal with her miseries for the rest of the day.

“That’s it?” Marlowe dogged his footsteps as soon as he left the divining chamber; “You’re just going to leave it at that? No scary faces popping out of bushes or air turning to razorblades? Nothing dramatic or fun?”

“There’s a time for subtlety and a time for mania, dear. We’ll have some more... theatrical fun once she slips off.”

---------------------------

By the time Noel was sprinting for the sleeping pills, Icelus was already waiting for her. He stood on a wide, sweeping balcony with a container holding dark, viscous ink next to him that could only be described as a cauldron. A taut piece of canvas drawn onto an easel stood before him, and the only word to describe what he was doing would be, strangely enough, finger-painting. Of course, when one’s fingers end in razor-pointed talons, the lines one makes with said claws are a good deal more elegant than a toddler’s grubby little stubs. He flicked his finger like the flanged edge of a pen, drawing the ink across the white canvas in an elegant cusp of a chin, looking over to the area on the cold balcony he had specified for his charge to appear as soon as she slipped off into sleep.

Noel went through the motions mechanically as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror. She washed off her makeup, brushed her teeth, and shook two little blue pills into her hand from the plastic bottle. She swallowed them with a mouthful of water from the faucet and made her way towards her bedroom in a zombie-like stupor. She slipped her shoes off and left them lying in the middle of the common room floor. It wasn't like there was anyone else around to complain about it; Noel'd had two roommates go missing since the start of the semester and the bedroom opposite hers was currently unoccupied.

She closed her door behind her and made her way to her bed, nearly stumbling over a pile of books. Slender fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, undoing the top few before she reached her bed and crawled into it without bothering to undress further. Pulling her blankets up about her shoulders she finally relaxed, slipping off into the dark.

- - - - - - - - - -

Bright green eyes snapped open as a strange, cold breeze assaulted her bare skin. Noel sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes though her mind felt clearer and more alert than it had for several days. She stood then, slowly, her back to Icelus, and took a few steps towards the edge of the balcony.

Icelus smirked to himself as he watched her looking over the balcony, bowing his head slightly as he spent a good few moments admiring how the scant underwear she wore accented her firm backside. Shaking his head from that, he dipped a claw in the bubbling pot of ink once more, dragging it in a smooth, thin line across the canvas as he began detailing in the hair of the figure.

Quick strokes across the canvas with his claw, dragging long, flowing locks down to the neckline of the figure, he admires his work with an appraising eye, finishing a few delicate strokes around the nape of the neck and the shoulder, the face turned away from the viewer and apparently gazing off at something interesting in the distance. Unlike most people who claimed to have muses, Icelus’ was a literal one.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks, looking over the canvas interestedly at Noel, confident that he was in complete and total control. This was, after all, his palace.

“I must admit I rather like it out here as well. A little chilly perhaps, but the crashing waves are calming, don’t you think?” he stretches, cleaning the ink from his claws with a stark white towel.

Noel leaned over the balcony's railing and stared out at the alien landscape with a perplexed look on her face. This wasn't anything like the sets that usually populated her dreams. Too desolate, too cold, though there was a rather strange beauty about it. Her own dreams tended to take place in entire worlds composed of intricately painted stage backdrops; she wondered why things were different tonight. Then she wondered if she was normally cognizant of the fact that she was dreaming while in the dream, eventually giving up when she remembered that her dreams rarely made any sort of logical sense; no reason tonight should be any different.I never occurred to her that as she leaned over the railing her short pleated skirt would ride up, giving her still unnoticed host a lovely view of the finely sculpted curves of her rear and the black lace panties she wore.

When he spoke Noel gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin in shock. She spun around to face Icelus, backing up so she was pressed against the cold metal railing. Her eyes immediately locked onto the wicked looking claws on his hand and she felt a shiver run through her body that had nothing to do with the chilly air.

Stay calm, stay calm...she told herself. This might not be as bad as it seems.

She distinctly remembered having a long, deeply philosophical conversation with a 6-headed rat monster once in a dream. No reason to assume this...man, or whatever he was, was going to eviscerate her.

"Yeah..." She said eventually, finally scraping together enough courage to speak. "It's very tranquil...I'm Noel, who're you?"

“Yes… tranquil…” Icelus trails off thoughtfully, hanging the rag over the side of the easel and stepping around. He is bare-chested, despite the cold, the ink-black flesh stretched tightly across a muscular frame. His violet eyes burn darkly as he strides over next to the girl, looking over the balcony onto the crashing sea below, his steps mostly hidden by the robe-like garment he wears belted to his waist, a deep purple cloth with an elegant silver trim.

“Tranquility is… not something very easy to come by in my job,” he says after a bit of reflection, those claws tightening on the rail of the balcony, “Perhaps that’s why I surround myself with it here? I mean, it’s understandable certainly, not many people are frightened of tranquility, but when I think of the manic state of my brother and sister’s homes… ah well…” he trails off once more.

“Alright, boring myself now,” he says in a complete reversal of tones, straightening up and clapping his hands together briskly, “Why don’t you follow me, love?”

He picks up the canvas and its backing, taking it from the easel gingerly in his claws and sliding it under his arm. With a few quick steps they leave the room, moving into the depths of the palace. He twists and turns in the labyrinthine hallways and after a few minutes it’s nearly impossible to find one’s way out again.

After minutes of what could have possibly been the pair going determinedly in circles, Icelus comes to a pair of double-doors, deep stained wood inset with murals of jade. He pushes them open, stepping inside to what appears to be a grand gallery. Arts of all type are represented within, traditional paintings, abstract works, portraits, photography, even massive sculptures of cyclopean beasts command floor space. The place holds artistry capturing images of immense beauty and immense horror, but the only thing they have in common is the range of colors, the palette of the gallery being very dark and muted with very subtle shifts in gradient.

Noel followed him. She wasn't entirely sure why she felt compelled to, but she did. As what seemed like miles of twisting, curving corridors vanished behind her she began to feel uneasy again. Like Perseus in the labyrinth, but without the benefit of any thread. Her bright green eyes darted around, trying to commit the route to memory but it all began to blur together before long. Eventually her attention returned to her strange host, and she idly wondered whether he was leading her to the minotaur, or if he was the beast himself.

The silence made her uneasy after a few minutes or two. It always did. At home she would always have a cd playing, or an old movie she'd already watched a few hundred times playing on the tv. "So uh...you've got a brother and sister, huh...? I always wanted siblings, I'm an only child." She said, just trying to fill the silence.

As they approached the heavy, ornate doors she arched an eyebrow, her curiosity peaked.

"You um, still haven't, answered my quest-..."

As they entered the gallery the words died on her lips. She gawked at the sudden flood of imagery, immediately forgetting her concerns about her host and veering off to the right, taking a few slow steps towards a large oil painting hanging on the wall. She stared up at it, entranced.

"What...what is all this?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

Icelus ignores the question for a moment, disappearing into the back of the gallery, looking for an open spot. He eventually finds one, caught between a large oil painting and a pencil sketch he found rather alluring. This back corner he dedicated to the muse, keeping the nightmare works out front. This corner, however, tucked away from the rest of the gallery, the rest of his realm, was fully Melpomene. With a smirk of his blank features, he dusts off his hands and returns to the gallery, moving behind Noel with the silence of a breeze.

“These, well, these are all mine. I dabble,” he says with a smirk, looking around, his gaze landing on the hundreds upon hundreds of works that occupy the space within the palace, his vast gallery one of his proudest possessions.

“That one, that one in particular, though,” he points to the painting she found, “I call it ‘The Frail.’ I saw it in a dream back in ’98 or ’99 or so, was so taken with it, I had to paint it.”

He leans back for a bit, smiling up at it, the juxtaposition of the burgundy sky and the deep black of the foreground, the figure obviously female but devoid of any features, a stark white in color and reclining in the space where the two colors meet.

“This is my gallery, to answer your other question. I rather like it…” he says, looking around, folding his arms behind his back.

"Dabble...?" She asked incredulously, shooting him a look over her shoulder as if he'd just told her he was really a fluffy pink bunny. He may have been being modest, but given the grandiose nature of their surroundings she doubted that modest was his usual M.O.

Noel drifted along, trying to take in the overwhelming amount of visual stimuli. She'd never seen so many works of art in one place before, and never a collection half as dark. She walked slowly along, scanning image after image. Everywhere she looked she saw strange, nightmarish imagery. The sense of awe that had overwhelmed her at first began to fade and the deep sinking feeling began to return. The works of art were darkly beautiful, but she couldn't help but think they were foreshadowing something awful. She reached out, gently brushing the tips of her fingers against the cold marble leg of one of the monstrous statues.

"The unanswered question I was referring to was actually 'who are you'..."She said, weaving through the stone monsters adorning the floor. "Doesn't really seem polite, dragging a girl to some massive creepy floating ice castle and not even giving her a name."